by Lucy Adams
“Why are you here, Avondale?”
The words ripped from Eliza’s throat before she could prevent them, finding her hands planted firmly on her hips, her back stiff with tension. She glared at Lord Avondale as he looked back at her, seeing the way his jaw worked, his eyes fixed upon hers. He lifted his head, standing tall and strong, just as she remembered him.
And yet she felt as though she had never truly known him at all. Even now, he was shrouded in secrecy and confusion, and Eliza discovered that she did not wish to know the truth about him any longer. She had made her mind up, had she not? She had decided to accept Lord Montrose’s offer of courtship and was not about to turn her back on him now, simply because Lord Avondale had returned! The thought was quite preposterous.
“I – I have come in search of you, Eliza,” Lord Avondale said, spreading his arms out wide as though this gesture of truth might make her believe he was being honest. “There is a good deal that was left unsaid, a good deal that I did not clarify before and now the time has come for me to do so.”
Before she could stop herself, Eliza let out a snort of derision, tossing her head. “You must believe, therefore, that I have spent these last two years desperately waiting for your return, Lord Avondale. You must believe that I am still in agony over your behavior, clinging to a hope that you will one day return to explain it all to me.” She poured scorn into her words, declaring it as much to herself as to Lord Avondale. Her own foolishness mocked her but she continued on regardless, seeing Lord Avondale’s eyes lose the tiny spark of hope that had been held within. “I have quite forgotten you, Lord Avondale. I am already being courted by another.”
She saw him stiffen, as though her words had truly pierced him.
“I think, Lord Avondale, that my daughter has made herself quite clear on the matter,” Lady Whitehaven said, softly, dropping her hand from Eliza’s arm as though she recognized that Eliza no longer required her support. “You may leave us.”
Lord Avondale shook his head, looking down at the floor and making no attempt to do as Lady Whitehaven had asked. Eliza felt herself grow even more frustrated, horrified that tears were pricking at her eyes. She did not wish him to see anything but anger and disfavor in her eyes, knowing that to allow him to see her tears would do her more harm than good. It might allow him to see just how truly hurt she was by his rejection of her, how much of a burden she still carried – and she could not allow that to occur.
“You may return to your wife, Lord Avondale,” she said, bluntly, waving him away with one hand. “I am sure that she will be missing your presence already.”
Something began to crackle in the air between them. A deep, unsettling tension began to wash over them both, making Eliza’s stomach churn uncomfortably, as though she knew that something was wrong in what she had said.
Lord Avondale’s expression grew haunted, his face appearing to pale as he regarded her. Eliza pressed one hand lightly against her stomach, forcing herself to take deep, even breaths.
“My wife is gone,” Lord Avondale replied, heavily, his voice dropping low. “I have been in mourning for some time. It has come to an end now, of course, but…..” He trailed off, looking away from them both, his jaw working furiously.
“I am very sorry for the loss of your Duchess,” Lady Whitehaven replied, her voice holding a good deal more sympathy than Eliza had expected. “We too have experienced such a loss.”
Lord Avondale nodded, turning his head back towards them both. “Of course,” he said, shaking his head. “Do forgive me for not expressing my condolences to you earlier.” He inclined his head. “Lord Whitehaven was a great man and a most respectable gentleman. I am certain that you must feel his loss most keenly.”
There was a heavy silence for a moment and Eliza glanced up at her mother, seeing the lines of pain forming around her eyes.
“We do,” Lady Whitehaven replied, thickly. “It is with me every day.”
Eliza reached out and pressed her mother’s hand gently, wanting to comfort her as best she could. This was, perhaps, the reason for her mother’s gentle compassion towards Lord Avondale upon hearing that his wife had passed away, for their grief could be shared and understood, even though their marriages had been of differing durations.
“May I ask when you lost your wife?” Lady Whitehaven questioned, letting go of Eliza’s hand as her voice grew a little stronger.
Lord Avondale’s expression tightened. “It was seven months after our wedding, Lady Whitehaven,” he said, surprising Eliza with the short time he had been wed. “Most unexpected and deeply saddening also.”
Lady Whitehaven nodded, whilst Eliza trained her eyes onto Lord Avondale, trying to make out his expression. There was a deep sadness in his face, his voice betraying the pain of the loss he felt, but there was something more there. An anger, mayhap? An anger that could not be truly expressed, an anger that he was doing his utmost to hide.
For a moment, Eliza was caught up in a cloud of questions, wondering why Lord Avondale appeared so and questioning what it was he wished to say to her in light of his wife’s death, but then she recalled her own fury and turned away from all thoughts of speaking to him further.
“We have completed our mourning, as you can see,” Lady Whitehaven finished, gesturing towards Eliza. “We have come to London for the Season and, thus far, my daughters are doing rather well. Dinah, of course, is the exception.”
This was spoken with a good deal more friendliness than before, sending Eliza’s stomach twisting with frustration. She did not want her mother to allow the sympathy and understanding that she felt over Lord Avondale’s loss to begin to encourage the friendship that had once been between their families.
Lord Avondale nodded, although he did not appear particularly interested in hearing about Dinah. His gaze returned to settle on Eliza, his expression fixed as though he were preparing himself for her complete and thorough rejection.
“You will not allow me to speak with you then, Miss Wells?” he asked, no longer addressing her as ‘Eliza’, as he once had. “Not even to allow me to explain what has gone before?”
She looked at him steadily, her answer already certain. “I fear, Lord Avondale, that it is much too late for explanations. I have no need of them, and you have no requirement to give them to me.”
He shuffled his feet, his head low. “I have never forgotten you, Miss Wells. I have been quite unable to do so.”
Shocked at his free way of speaking, particularly in front of her mother, Eliza caught her breath and looked away, hating the climbing heat that was already making its way into her face.
“Lord Avondale.” Her mother’s reproach was soft yet determined.
“You must forgive me,” Lord Avondale replied at once, although he did not sound in the least bit apologetic. “I have been quite tormented ever since my parting from your daughter, Lady Whitehaven, and now that there is the opportunity to explain myself to her completely, I find myself longing to do so, even if it is only for the most selfish of motives.”
Lady Whitehaven arched an eyebrow, throwing a glance at Eliza. Eliza shook her head sharply, making her decision quite clear. She wanted nothing to do with Lord Avondale any longer.
“Selfish, Lord Avondale?”
“I wish to assuage my guilt, somewhat,” Lord Avondale confessed. “I wish I had never spoken so cruelly or treated Miss Wells so disparagingly, but the circumstances at the time required me to separate myself from her entirely. What I would not do for the opportunity to return to that moment and beg her forgiveness for my actions!” His voice became strained with emotion and, much to her frustration, Eliza felt her own heart begin to soften just a little, losing some of the anger that burned within her.
“There is a good deal more to explain, Miss Wells,” Lord Avondale finished, looking at her beseechingly. “If only you would give me the opportunity to do so, then there might be an end to the anger and frustration you bear towards me.”
Eliza shook h
er head, refusing to allow anything she felt to hold sway over her decision. “Lord Avondale, as I have said before, things between us are quite at an end. You chose to do so, did you not? How can you now claim that you have always been desperate in your urgency to share an explanation with me when the opportunity was there some two years ago?” She tossed her head, her dark ringlets bouncing. “I shall not change my mind, Lord Avondale. I have chosen to leave you in the past, which is where you shall stay. I have other gentlemen to consider now.”
Much to her surprise, she saw that Lord Avondale’s face fell at these words, appearing quite crestfallen that she had forgotten him entirely. What had he expected? Had he expected her to still be clinging onto his memory, even in the knowledge that he was married and settled? Eliza had to admit that she was more relieved than ever that she had chosen to allow Lord Montrose to court her, glad that she could now state, quite clearly, that she was by the side of another gentleman. That was proof that she had determined to forget Lord Avondale entirely, was it not?
“My daughter is being courted by Lord Montrose,” Lady Whitehaven said, by way of explanation. “The Earl of Montrose, I should say.” She smiled and patted Eliza’s shoulder. “We are all very pleased for her, of course, for he appears to be a wonderful gentleman.”
Eliza set her face and looked steadily back at Lord Avondale, who was shaking his head as though she had imparted some truly dreadful news. For some minutes, nothing was said, the air growing thick with tension as it clouded the room. Eliza felt her heart begin to quicken, praying that Lord Avondale would not be able to hear what she was sure was an audible thumping.
“I am much too late, then,” Lord Avondale replied, heavily, not looking at either Eliza or her mother. “It is just as I expected, of course.” He shrugged and began to turn away, hopelessness wrapping itself around him like a thick, dark cloak. “I should never have treated you as I did, Eliza, but there was nothing else for me to do. I had no choice. Mayhap one day you will seek an explanation from me, and I must tell you, Eliza, that I will always be glad to give it.”
Eliza could not speak, her heart in her throat as she heard her name upon his lips. It sounded so familiar and yet so foreign in equal measure. Her whole being was flung back headlong into the memories of the two of them together – the laughter, the joy and the happiness they had once shared.
He was the one who tore that from you, she reminded herself, sternly. Do not permit him to use those memories to soften your heart now.
“I do not think I shall ever do so, Lord Avondale,” she replied, firmly, as his steps led him to the door. “As I said, I have chosen to set the past aside and turned my heart towards another.”
Lord Avondale nodded miserably, his eyes barely making it to hers before dropping to the floor again.
“You will be more than welcome to call again, however, Lord Avondale,” Lady Whitehaven said, much to Eliza’s dismay. “You have friends here, as you know. We shall not reject you entirely, nor give you the cut direct.”
Lord Avondale gave Lady Whitehaven a small smile, although it did not reach his eyes. “That is most gracious of you, Lady Whitehaven, and certainly shows a good deal more kindness than I have ever deserved,” he replied, sadly. “Would that I had shown your daughter the same consideration two years ago. I will express to you both again my deepest regret and my humble apologies, with the only explanation being that I had no other choice. My hands were bound completely, and I was not free to do anything but turn from Miss Wells entirely. Had I been able to make my own decisions, then you would have found me here as Miss Wells’ betrothed, and not as her enemy.”
Eliza swallowed hard and looked away, refusing to let his words touch her heart. Her anger was billowing towards her mother, unable to understand why Lady Whitehaven had offered such kindness towards Lord Avondale when it was more than apparent that Eliza wanted nothing more to do with the gentleman. She waited until the door closed firmly before rounding on her.
“Whatever were you thinking, Mama?”
Lady Whitehaven looked back at her, a little surprised. “What do you mean, Eliza?”
“You invited Lord Avondale back to our household!” Eliza exclaimed, rippling anger coursing through her. “Why should you do such a thing when you know what he has done and how he has treated me?”
Lady Whitehaven gave Eliza a soft smile, which did nothing to dampen Eliza’s fury.
“He is suffering, Eliza, can you not see that?”
The gentle words penetrated through Eliza’s ire, giving her the first inkling into her mother’s consideration towards Lord Avondale.
“He has lost his wife, Eliza,” Lady Whitehaven said, softly, turning towards her daughter with a look of grief in her eyes. “Even if you are angry with him, even if you are truly set against him – which I fully understand – can you not feel even the slightest compassion for what he has lost?”
Eliza hesitated, not wanting to answer and yet finding that the truth of her mother’s words was already settling over her heart.
“You will never need to be present should he be invited to afternoon tea or the like,” her mother promised, reaching for Eliza’s hand and holding it tightly. “I should never force you to do such a thing. However, it may be that he requires someone to speak with who will truly understand his grief and pain.” She lifted her shoulders. “Whom else can understand but another who has lost a spouse?”
Eliza shook her head, her tension draining away from her despite her desire to cling onto it, to allow it to add fuel to her anger.
“You are much too generous, Mama,” she admitted, slowly. “I have no such sympathy for him.”
Her mother sighed and let go of Eliza’s hand. “That may well be so,” she answered, gently, “and I would not hold such things against you. But you may recall, Eliza, that forgiveness is something that we are often encouraged to take a hold of. Your prayers end with such a request, do they not?”
A small pang of shame burst through Eliza’s heart and she turned away. She did not want to be reminded of such things, nor of her Christian duty to forgive the wounds and pains of the past. It was all much too fresh, much too soon for such things.
“This will take time, Eliza,” her mother finished, calmly. “You will not have to even converse with him, if you do not wish to. I will not say that you need never see him again, for most likely, you will be at some of the same social occasions as one another, and you therefore must be prepared for that.”
Sighing inwardly, Eliza nodded, making for the door. She no longer wanted to be in the same room as her mother, no longer wanted to hear what she would have to endure, now that Lord Avondale would be in town.
“I shall, Mama,” she muttered, half-heartedly. “And in the meantime, I shall look forward to Lord Montrose’s visit to you, so that our courtship might finally begin.”
Lady Whitehaven held Eliza’s gaze for a long moment, not saying even a single word.
“I am quite certain that this is what I want,” Eliza continued, a touch defiantly, as though she could see her mother’s thoughts. “You will not refuse him, Mama, will you?”
“Of course I will not,” Lady Whitehaven replied, steadily. “Just as long as you are certain that it is still what you wish.”
Eliza nodded, pulling open the door and making to quit the room. “I am quite certain, Mama,” she replied, her voice echoing into the room behind her. “More certain than ever before.”
Chapter Two
Jeremy, the Duke of Avondale, felt his heart drop to the floor as he left Lady Whitehaven’s townhouse. That had been the most disastrous encounter of his life.
Making his way back to his own townhouse, Jeremy felt his steps drag, the heavy weight of his heart seeming to pull him down. There was no happiness in this. There was no joy in his heart. That had gone the moment he had been forced to step away from Eliza and do his family duty.
Eliza would never forgive him. That was more than apparent. The anger and upset in
her eyes had said more than her words could ever explain. As much as she had stated that she cared nothing for his explanations, that she no longer felt even a single modicum of emotion for him, Jeremy could not believe it was true. There had been too much raw agony in her expression, too much ire spitting through her words for him to believe that.
All he had wanted was the opportunity to explain, now that he was able to do so. At the time, he had been desperate to tell her the truth but his loyalty to his family had held him back. He had been forced to make promises that had subsequently torn Jeremy’s life apart, and broken Eliza’s heart completely.
Climbing into his carriage, Jeremy sat back against the squabs and closed his eyes. The way that she had looked at him as he first entered the room was something he would never forget. Her face had paled, her eyes widened, and then color had burned in her cheeks. Her brows had lowered, her dark ringlets darkening her appearance as she had folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her gaze at him.
He had not been welcomed in that house.
Bursting into the room in the first place had been a mistake, of course, but the butler had insisted that, even though Lady Whitehaven and Miss Eliza Wells were at home, they could not see him – and his desperation had forced him to react. He had hurried into the drawing room, all sense forgotten, in the desperate hope that Eliza would give him just a few minutes of her time.
Goodness, she had been even more beautiful than he remembered. She was strong and determined, resilient and unafraid. But, worst of all, apparently already being courted by another.
Groaning, Jeremy shoved his head into his hands, his heart aching with frustration and regret. What had he expected? Had he truly thought that Eliza would continue to wait for him, for years and years, until somehow his marriage had been brought to an end? That was more than foolish, especially given just how poorly he had treated her, giving her no explanation for his departure. To lose his wife had been truly terrible, but to lose his wife and the woman he loved was more torturous than anything he had ever known before.
